Petrol pandemonium

The government has changed its advice, but why did we panic in the first place? A psychologist expla

Any rational person in the UK who doesn't want to be left without petrol has probably topped their vehicle up recently or at least thought about doing so. After all, the people running the country, before changing their advice today, had advised drivers to do this, amid fears of a country-wide strike by tanker drivers.

When consumer behaviour changes on a mass scale in this way, the media usually work up a lather, pronouncing that the country is in the grip of "panic buying" or "mass hysteria". In fact, most drivers are behaving calmly, doing the sensible thing based on the information they've received.

The situation began a few days ago when, for political and practical purposes, the coalition government started to publicise the strike threat and talk about the contingency plans they were putting in place. The last thing any government wants is to be blamed for not planning ahead or to be accused of not giving people due warning. By putting contingencies in place and encouraging stockpiling, the coalition also presumably hoped to undermine the potential impact of a strike, thereby dissuading the tanker drivers from fulfilling their threats in the first place.

Unfortunately, the government's early announcements and warnings invoked three of the most powerful principles in the social psychology of persuasion, as outlined by the doyen of the field, Robert Cialdini, Regents' Professor Emeritus of Psychology and Marketing at Arizona State University, in his book Influence: Science and Practice.

The first of these is "authority" - we tend to listen to people we perceive as knowledgeable or having privileged information. Despite the lousy reputation of politicians, when several members of the coalition said repeatedly that fuel could run low, many people believed them and started changing their buying habits.

Second is the "scarcity principle" - we instinctively want what we can't have and value highly that which is rare. Once people started to believe that fuel is in short supply and that it could run out, they immediately wanted it more and were willing to work harder to get it, for example by queuing or taking unplanned detours to forecourts. For other examples of this effect in action, just look at the way parents behave around Christmas time when rumours emerge that a trendy toy is due to sell out; or consider the way Concorde tickets became hot property the moment it was announced the jet would soon fly no more.

The last relevant factor is known as "social proof" or "social norms" and is perhaps the most powerful of all. Time and again research has shown that we tend to look at how other people are behaving (or how we think they're behaving) to help choose how we should behave ourselves. Take the context of binge drinking by university students, where it's been found that most undergrads massively overestimate how much their peers drink and then use this mistaken yardstick to guide their own drinking patterns.

With regard to the fuel situation, many people probably decided that they weren't too concerned and some may still feel that way. But the sight on the news of people queuing for fuel is incredibly compelling. Because it's human nature to copy each other, if we see that everyone else is filling up, we're likely to do the same. Twenty-four hour rolling news online and TV makes this factor more powerful today than ever before.

The net result of all this is that some fuel pumps around the country are running dry even though the strike may not even happen. Of course, lack of fuel in the pumps serves to fuel the news story, creating a self-perpetuating situation - though to call it hysteria or panic is hyperbole. Only now the message has been communicated from trusted sources that there's plenty of fuel, and that most people aren't stockpiling, will normal service likely be resumed.

Dr Christian Jarrett is a psychologist and author of The Rough Guide To Psychology

Photo: Getty Images
Photo: Getty
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In focusing on the famous few, we risk doing a disservice to all victims of child sexual abuse

There is a danger that we make it harder, not easier, for victims to come forward in future. 

Back in the 1970s when relations between journalists and police were somewhat different to today a simple ritual would be carried out around the country at various times throughout the week.

Reporters, eager for information for their regional newspaper, would take a trip to the local station and there would be met by a desk sergeant who would helpfully skim through details in the crime Incident Book.

Among the entries about petty thefts, burglaries and road accidents there would occasionally be a reference to an allegation of incest. And at this point the sergeant and journalist might well screw-up their faces, shake their heads and swiftly move on to the next log. The subject was basically taboo, seen as something ‘a bit mucky,’ not what was wanted in a family newspaper.

And that’s really the way things stayed until 1986 when ChildLine was set up by Dame Esther Rantzen in the wake of a BBC programme about child abuse. For the first time children felt able to speak out about being sexually assaulted by the very adults whose role in life was to protect them.

And for the first time the picture became clear about what incest really meant in many cases. It wasn’t simply a low level crime to be swept under the carpet in case it scratched people’s sensitivities. It frequently involved children being abused by members of their close family, repeatedly, over many years.

Slowly but surely as the years rolled on the NSPCC continued to press the message about the prevalence of child sexual abuse, while encouraging victims to come forward. During this time the corrosive effects of this most insidious crime have been painfully detailed by many of those whose lives have been derailed by it. And of course the details of the hundreds of opportunistic sexual assaults committed by Jimmy Savile have been indelibly branded onto the nation’s consciousness.

It’s been a long road - particularly for those who were raped or otherwise abused as children and are now well into their later years - to bring society around to accepting that this is not to be treated as a dark secret that we really don’t want to expose to daylight. Many of those who called our helpline during the early days of the Savile investigation had never told anyone about the traumatic events of their childhoods despite the fact they had reached retirement age.

So, having buried the taboo, we seem to be in danger of giving it the kiss of life with the way some cases of alleged abuse are now being perceived.

It’s quite right that all claims of sexual assault should be investigated, tested and, where there is a case, pursued through the judicial system. No one is above the law, whether a ‘celebrity’ or a lord.

But we seem to have lost a sense of perspective when it comes to these crimes with vast resources being allocated to a handful of cases while many thousands of reported incidents are virtually on hold.

The police should never have to apologise for investigating crimes and following leads. However, if allegations are false or cannot be substantiated they should say so. This would be a strength not a weakness.

It is, of course, difficult that in many of the high-profile cases of recent times the identities of those under investigation have not been officially released by the police but have come to light through other means. Yet we have to deal with the world as it is not as we wish it would be and once names are common knowledge the results of the investigations centring on them should be made public.

When it emerges that someone in the public eye is being investigated for non-recent child abuse it obviously stirs the interest of the media whose appetite can be insatiable. This puts pressure on the police who don’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past by allowing offenders to slip through their hands.  And so there is a danger, as has been seen in recent cases, that officers lack confidence in declaring there is a lack of evidence or the allegations are not true. 

The disproportionate weight of media attention given to say, Sir Edward Heath, as opposed to the Bradford grooming gang sentenced this week, shows there is a danger the pendulum is swinging too far the other way. This threatens the painstaking work invested in ensuring the public and our institutions recognise child abuse as a very real danger. 

Whilst high profile cases have helped the cause there is now a real risk that the all-encompassing focus on them does both victims of abuse and those advocating on their behalf a fundamental disservice.

As the public watches high -profile cases collapsing amidst a media fanfare genuine convictions made across the country week in week out go virtually unannounced. If this trend continues they may start to believe that child sexual abuse isn’t the prolific problem we know it to be.

So, while detectives peer into the mists of time, searching for long lost clues, we have to face the unpalatable possibility that offences being committed today will in turn only be investigated fully in years or decades' time because there is not the manpower to deal with them right now.

So, now the Goddard Inquiry is in full swing, taking evidence about allegations of child sex crimes involving ‘well known people’ as well as institutional abuse, how do we ensure we don’t fail today’s victims?

If they start to think their stories are going to be diminished by the continuing furore over how some senior public figures have been treated by the police they will stay silent. Therefore we have to continue to encourage them to come forward, to give them the confidence of knowing they will be listened to.

If we don’t we will find ourselves back in those incestuous days where people conspired to say and do nothing to prevent child abuse.

Peter Wanless is Chief Executive of the NSPCC.